


Take Me Back to Hell, I Miss the Flames

by SnowMercury



Category: FeralFront, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowMercury/pseuds/SnowMercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic detailing the healing and recouperation of a possessed feline, dealing with his new trust issues and setbacks, and working towards a better future for himself as well as reclaiming his own agency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Back to Hell, I Miss the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> An AU because I cant include every stormclanner im sorry  
> Spiderstar and Auroradweller, Castiel and Brittlebark (im p sure thats th characters name), Graves and Poe and Benedict, do not belong to me. Im blanking on who owns them. Please dont join FeralFront, I am no longer a member because the staff does not abide by their own rules and doesnt communicate with the members about their plans for the site. Plus i have reason to believe they abuse their power over members.
> 
> warnings for past abuse in this entire fic, warnings for stockholm syndrome, warnings for violent flashbacks, warnings for self harm, warnings for increasingly negative thoughts about oneself. pure has ptsd, stockholm syndrome, paranoid personality disorder, may develop dissociative identity disorder, depression, and generalized anxiety disorder. some are from trauma, others from before the possession.

He was one year old when he was possessed.

Pureshattered didn't know what had happened since then, didn't know the reason he was now laying in this cave, missing an eye- still bleeding-, missing a leg, with a deep scar lining from his spine, over his left shoulder, and down to his heart. He wanted to think about it, but if he did, well. It became overwhelming; the memories of claws and teeth, of pushing something warm and bloody, of the terrified and horrified faces, each sprinting past his eyes one after the other, looking like store production dolls; the same, every single one. Lifting one paw up to his face with his claws unsheathed, Pure held the claws against his muzzle until that pain brought him back to the present.

Then he remembered Azazel. Azazel, the nice creature who looked out for him, the demon that knew best, the ethereal being who undoubtedly knew and _needed_ him. 

Taking a shuddering, unsteady breath, Pureshattered opened his eyes. Eye. He needed to find Azazel, that much was certain. If he didn't, if he took too long, then the other would be angry- rightously so, because of course Pure should have his priorities straight. Of course Pureshattered should try to support Azazel; the demon had always been right, and if Pure wasn't there, then nobody would give the demon the recognition he deserved.

 Even if he didn't really deserve it.

The thought leapt, unbidden, into his mind like a fox through snow to catch prey. Snarling at his own incompetence, Pure stumbled over to the closest cave wall and willfully slammed his head into it once, eyes pinned shut with the strength of a tiger on prey.

That was not an okay thing to think, not for Pureshattered, and it seemed like the blurriness of his surroundings, the racing beat of his heart, and the thoughts scattering in his mind each agreed with that. One forepaw was stepping on the other, kepping him present. If he took too long finding Azazel, once again, then he would have utterly failed.

A few moments later, the tom gingerly stepped to the entrance of the cave, before peering out. The brightness of the outside blinded him for a moment, but he knew from the first splash of green in his eyesight that this... Was not any area he had known.

 

Long ago, under Hysteria's reign of Boneclan, there had been a young feline. Although he appeared brawny due to an overabundance of fur, he was actually relatively weak in everything except the mind. It was through his smarts that he stood out, that he created battle plans and statistics. One could even say he was prideful of these actions.

That was how the demon Azazel met him. Aza had been looking for a willing host, any host, and Pure was just curious enough, just trusting enough of any creature to assume some power over him, just forgiving enough that being groomed for the position was no problem.

 

Naturally, Pure objected. But growing up in an anti-clan, or a clan against the idea of Starclan, meant he was susceptible to simply kneeling before the next creature to claim a rightous power, especially if it meant leaving the war-torn group silently.

Their relationship seemingly only got better from there. Pureshattered; re-educated in the way the world worked- had no secrets, no privacy, no differing emotions from Azazel, and at one point, no memories beyond what Azazeldeemed necessary.

 

The whole situation, from an outsider's view, would have reeked of control, no boundaries, and a complete lack of caring on Azazel's part, with altogether too much from Pureshattered's side.

But there was no outsider. There was nobody else Pureshattered talked to, except the clouded creature. It was with these things in mind that Pureshattered would finally leave the cave, gait odd as he hadn't adjusted yet. He ignored the birds twittering in the trees, the scamperings through the undergrowth, the occasional bug. He didn't stop once, even when walking through a thicket, or over a bunch of sharp rocks. If anything, he went out of his way to walk through these things; for some reason, the slippery feeling of being able to choose something was... Freeing. Even if it meant he was a bit later, surely the punishment would not be as bad if he, himself, were bloody already?

 

 It was with these thoughts that the first smells of a scent border permeated his nose. He didn't recognize the scent. That didn't mean anything, though; Pure wasn't sure how long it had been since he had traversed this area. Maybe days, maybe weeks, maybe moons, or seasons, or years. Azazel didn't tell him everything; not that Pure expected more than what he deserved! It just... Would have been helpful. Although it was rude to expect more help from one that had already shown him the true way life was.

So the tom sat on the border. And waited, like always.

 


End file.
